Rebirth
by Kumori-Eclipse
Summary: Not everything stays dead.


⠀⠀⠀ The feeling of being completely surrounded in black, floating, no sound nor light...just emptiness. The deafening blankness of oblivion...and then there was light. Eyes staring at the muddled form of light through the bag that seemed to encase his body. Taking a sharp breath, it stung his lungs, sending a sharp rush of both pain and life through his form. Immediately hands lifted, moving to push against the plastic, trapped...

⠀⠀⠀ Eventually he managed to make a hole enough to tear the bag apart, sitting up into the open air and allowing sharp breaths to rake through his body. For a moment he remained, letting the pain subside and evenness to return. Frowning, icy gaze lowered to a hand and observed it, fingers curling in and then relaxing. This...shouldn't be possible... The last thing he remembered, was the fight with Sebastian and then...nothing. He'd given in to death, to becoming the ultimate masterpiece and yet...

⠀⠀⠀ He was clearly in some kind of morgue, other bags concealing the vague forms of bodies around him. Curious... Turning, he managed to place his feet on the floor, his weight almost giving initially beneath him. It had been awhile... Glancing around, he noted a sort of locker room off to the side... It would have to do, slowly making his way over.

⠀⠀⠀ A pair of black pants and a white shirt, it would do and at least he wasn't so exposed now... What...what was he doing here? Moving to the sink near the door, he stared into the mirror over it. He looked himself, like he hadn't aged a day. A bit on the more lean side, but that came from understandable reasons. A hand moved to his chest, his heart beat beneath. No bullet holes, no scars from his meeting with the detective...

⠀⠀⠀ Moving his hand then, he pushed away the hair that covered his right eye. The scar was still there, the mark of what had happened to him so long ago. Frowning, his fingers curled into a fist and before he knew it...the mirror was in shambles. Staring at the broken pieces, he heard the door out in the morgue open and close. Moving slightly to look out, he noticed a doctor stepping inside...to busy looking at their papers. This wouldn't do...

⠀⠀⠀ Stepping out as they passed by, a hand would slip onto a lab table nearby and pick up a scalpel. The doctor paused at the table he'd been on, eyes moving to look at the empty and torn bag. They seemed surprised, but that mattered little...they were in the way now. Slipping silently behind, a hand moved to cover the man's mouth, before blade met flesh. He'd forgotten how it felt, to do such with his actual own hands, besides the ones in STEM. Streaks of red caught on the surfaces before them, he released the doctor and allowed the body to fall to the floor.

⠀⠀⠀ Turning away, he needed to leave, this place...wasn't where he wanted nor needed to be. Thus he walked to the door, pushing it open and stepping out. Where would he go? What would he do? He had his assets still, those locked away before he'd gone in and the world didn't know fully what had happened...perhaps it was time for the photographer to make a comeback. A slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips for once, he turned and began down the hall.

⠀⠀⠀ Of course such would be to easy, he hadn't made it to far, before an alarm sounded. He frowned, of course nosy cameras couldn't keep to themselves. Immediately down the hall, a series of guards appeared, guns raised and aimed at him. He noted hesitation in some, staring at them as if they'd seen...well...a ghost. He stepped back a bit, at this rate, he would never make it out. He was still a bit leery on his feet, getting his bearings and used to being once more himself. Still, he wasn't about to comply with their orders of putting his hands up.

⠀⠀⠀ No, he knew well what would happen. Death, experiments, becoming a lab rat was all that would lay ahead of him if he did. His hand tightened around the scalpel he still had in his hand, jaw clenching and a glare forming towards them. No...he would /not/ go back to being their puppet. He would /never/ be their puppet again. A heat rising within him, an anger and fury he had long since felt. Then it hit, the sharp searing pain in the right side of his face, where his eye should have been.

⠀⠀⠀ Flinching, his other hand moved to cover it, the pain intensifying and spreading. His skin felt like it was on fire, the scalpel slipping from his hand and dropping. He staggered a bit, his other eye blurring a bit, a ringing began to fill his ears. Pressure built, pushing against his very skull, making him feel like it was going to burst. He could see the blurred forms of the men attempting to move in, a flash of a white coat behind him a doctor... They were probably going to try and sedate him.

⠀⠀⠀ No! He refused to go back, he refused to let them take the life he'd just gotten back. He hadn't made it far...how sickening, how pathetic. The movements getting closer, he could feel it and it set the flame within him ablaze.

⠀⠀⠀ "Stay...back!" he yelled, glaring and lowering his hand, fingers clenching into fists.

⠀⠀⠀ As if on cue, a flare of familiar energy spurred around him. The sheer force knocking the men off balance and causing the area around him to stir like a sudden wind had swept through. Tinted blue, the air curled and fluxed like flame, his eyes moving to his hands. Then he felt it, the stir on the right side of his face. A hand moving up, gently brushing over his scar and yet...it was no longer such.

⠀⠀⠀ In the center where his eye should have been...was a lens. He could see from it, the world coming into focus, tinted blue but it was there. This...wasn't possible...it couldn't be and yet it was. The guns aimed at him stabilized, and he could hear the order to take him down coming in. A smile curled on his lips, he didn't understand, but he didn't need to. He /knew/ what to do. Lifting a hand, he could feel the shift behind him, the eye opening and lens focusing.

⠀⠀⠀ It filled the hallway, black and tendrils slipping from it, stretching out. He didn't need to say a word, as soon as the first bullet flew, they were finished. A tendril moved to block him, before several swarmed forward. Though flexible and able to worm their way down the hall, the ends were sharp and hardened. They pierced the flesh like knives, lifting and tearing, throwing the annoyances out of the way like they were nothing.

⠀⠀⠀ When they finally pulled back, the only one that had managed to live was that doctor, holding his torn arm and shivering on the floor. The tendrils pulled back, a noise sounding behind him, causing him to close his eyes. Oh how he'd missed her voice, that large camera head slinking over his shoulder, lens coming to focus on his face. Opening his eyes, he could see his reflection within her lens, the soft blue glow behind strands of black on the right side of his face. A hand moved, gently trailing his fingers up under that camera.

⠀⠀⠀ "My beautiful Obscura" he breathed, earning a coo like sound from the creature.

⠀⠀⠀ The doctor attempting to scramble back upon the slick floor, Obscura's head would immediately snap around and fix the man in her sights. A smile leaving the artist's lips, he watched the fear painted across the man's face, yes...it was magnificent and yet... He had no use for the man. Thus with a small lift of his hand, a sharper sound left the creature beside him, before she was rushing past him and down the hall. Turning, all he heard was begging, before a sharp crunch and then silence.

⠀⠀⠀ The rest was simple enough, those who dared tried to stop him were met with the wrath of the massive eye entity, or his beautiful Obscura. Walls, floors and ceilings painted red, the canvas was set around him. Finally there was the door, stepping out into the fresh air. The sky darkened and swirled above him, the form taking shape and the giant eye taking its rightful place watching over him. He was in the middle of nowhere, this he knew, but now...he could feel the power coursing through him. A smile on his lips, his fingers curling in once more, indeed...it was time for a comeback. This time, he'd make the world his canvas and his art would be grander than it was before. The energy swirling around him, it was time to make the world know the name Stefano Valentini once more... and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.


End file.
